


for richer or for poorer

by gasmsinc



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, Anal Sex, Class Differences, Financial Issues, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-08 22:55:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16438406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gasmsinc/pseuds/gasmsinc
Summary: They sit awkwardly, no longer having the menus to distract them. Patrick is suddenly very uncomfortable. Without thinking he opens his mouth. “I can pay for my food.”Jonny looks at him confusedly. “I invited you out.”“I know, but—”“I know I don’t have a lot of money,” Jonny interrupts, voice higher than he means it to be, suddenly looking very annoyed. When the people at the next table turn to look at them he swallows, shoulders hunched. “I drive a shitty car and live in a trailer park, but Icanafford to buy you a drink and dinner at TGI Friday’s.”Patrick goes quiet, mouth in a thin line, feeling suddenly very, very guilty.“Look,” Jonny continues. “I know you’re out of my league. I can’t take you to the newest steakhouse like Greg, or on a yacht like Mike, but I think you’re cute and I want to get to know you better.”





	for richer or for poorer

**Author's Note:**

> I know I'm known for writing millionaire Jonny and his sugar baby Patrick, but then I accidentally got into my feels about Jonny being poor and out of Patrick's league and ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Patrick agrees to go out with Jonny, the _janitor_ in his office, because despite his occupation, Jonny is pretty hot. Sometimes Patrick catches him in the break room with the top of his blue jumpsuit open enough to reveal broad shoulders and large biceps, and Jonny’s got a bright smile and a jaw literally chiseled by the hands of God.

He’s also kind of shy when he asks Patrick out, like he already knows that they’re completely mix-matched and Patrick is out of his league, like he’s braced himself for the _no_ already but is shooting his shot anyway. Patrick would _normally_ say no, but Jonny _is_ hot, and maybe he’ll be a good fuck, and honestly he has to give Jonny credit for even having the balls to ask.

“Oh,” Jonny says, surprised, before his face turns into suspicion. “Really?”

Patrick looks up from his computer. “Why did you ask me out if you thought I was going to say no?”

Jonny is quiet for a moment before he shrugs. “You never know until you try.”

Patrick suddenly finds him weirdly endearing. “You can pick me up at eight on Friday.” He jots down his address and number on a sticky-note, handing it over as Jonny continues to look a tad bit suspicious. “I’ll let you decide where you’re going to take me, but Greg in accounting took me to that new steakhouse in the Loop last week.”

Jonny’s face falls for just a moment. “Yeah, uh, okay. See you Friday.”

Patrick sees Jonny in passing throughout the week, but pays him little attention. It’s the busiest time of the year, and he spends most of his time grabbing quick lunches and getting Sharpy to yell at people who yell at him. He doesn’t mean to ignore Jonny, but Jonny kind of has one of those jobs where he’s just in the background, doing his thing. At least he doesn't comment about the amount of tissues he has to restock each day because of how much the interns (and Patrick) cry.

By the time Friday rolls around, Patrick is just so exhausted that he doesn’t even realize that it’s Friday.

“Are we still on for tonight?” Jonny asks, stopping by his cubicle with his cart. There’s a smudge of dirt on his jumpsuit.

“Tonight?” Patrick repeats.

Jonny’s face falls. “Our date?”

“ _Oh_ ,” Patrick says, watching the way Jonny’s face continues to fall in disappointment. He really wears his heart on his sleeve.

“Don’t look like that,” Patrick says. People are starting to stare, and they’re not staring because it’s abnormal to be speaking so much with the cleaning staff. Everyone kind of really likes—no _loves_ —Jonny. He’s their janitor but he’s also kind of everyone’s favorite human being in existence, and if Patrick cancels on their date and makes Jonny even more sad, his colleagues will probably going to throw him out the window. “We’re still on for our date.”

Jonny sighs a breath of relief, shoulders sagging, smiling. “Okay,” he says. “I’ll pick you up at eight.” He hesitates for a moment, playing with a mop handle on his cart. Patrick waits him out.

“I don’t have a new car,” Jonny blurts.

That’s a really weird thing to say, but Jonny also brings gluten free cookies to the office Christmas party. “I drive a 2016.”

Jonny frowns. “Yeah,” he says, “um, I’ll see you at eight,” and then he wheels his cart away quickly. Patrick watches him go, loving that Jonny’s ass is so fat that he can see it through the loose jumpsuit. If he plays his cards right tonight, he’ll get his hands all over that ass.

He takes his time getting ready for their date, taking a quick cat nap before he soaks in his tub like the diva that Sharpy claims that he is. Whatever. He likes his bubble baths.

He doesn’t know where Jonny’s taking him tonight, but he goes for the simple tight black shirt and tight dark jeans combo because he knows that he looks good.

Jonny actually _leaves his car_ and knocks on Patrick’s door like some sort of 1950s high school gentleman when eight rolls around. It gives Patrick an actual fright. “Why are you knocking on my door?”

“What,” Jonny says dumbly, looking incredibly hot in his skin-tight white shirt, dark jeans, and backwards cap. It gives Patrick a bit of a pause because baseball cap does not scream steakhouse, but he’s sure Jonny will take it off when they get to the restaurant.

“You knocked on my door.”

Jonny frowns. “Yeah?”

“It’s 2018.”

Jonny frowns harder. “I know what year it is.”

Patrick narrows his eyes in suspicion, but he grabs his wallet—he doesn’t want to be that person, but he actually doesn’t have any plan on paying for dinner—and his keys. He almost drops them when he turns around after locking the door and sees what kind of car Jonny drives. “ _Oh_.”

The car is gold, and old, some sort of Mazda from the early 2000s.

“I—” Jonny starts, suddenly looking very nervous and ashamed, which immediately makes Patrick feel like a piece of shit because his mother did not raise him to be an asshole.

“Dude, you’ve got a cassette player?” he says quickly. “You better have made me a sick mixtape.”

Jonny smiles, relaxing. He comes around the side of the car, opening the door for Patrick. Patrick is momentarily shocked. “It’s _2018_.”

“Why do you keep saying that?”

“Bruh,” is all Patrick can say as he slips into the passenger seat.

He tries not to look around too much. He can’t be a judgmental asshole, he _can’t_ , it’s just not right to judge someone by what kind of car they drive or what job they work, but this is just _not_ what he’s used to. He’s used to going on dates with guys who drive the latest, sleekest, newest Mercedes or Audi.

Jonny actually does have a tape in the player. It’s a mix of indie pop from the early 2000s, _of course_. “Thought I would wait for the second date to make you a mixtape.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Patrick says, smiling because he can’t help it. “Very presumptuous of you to assume that there will be a second date.”

Jonny only grins, looking cocky.

The drive into the city is pretty quiet, but it’s comfortably quiet. Patrick doesn’t feel like he has to fill the silence, but it’s nice when they do. Jonny is pretty attentive, asking twenty different questions without making it seem like he’s asking a lot of questions, and he actually _listens_ to Patrick.

When they get to the restaurant, Patrick’s too distracted by their easy conversation to realize where they are. They’re nowhere near the Loop, actually, he doesn’t even _think_  that they’re in the city. They’re sitting in the parking lot of a TGI Friday’s. That explains the baseball cap.

Patrick frowns when Jonny gets out of the car. He hasn’t been to a chain restaurant in _years_ , but he quickly wipes the look from his face when Jonny comes to open his door. “I haven’t been here in years.”

Jonny's face falls momentarily. “I like their burgers,” he says, sounding almost a bit desperate, like he _needs_ to convince Patrick that it’s okay to be here.

Patrick doesn’t say anything.

It gets awkward between them as they wait for their table. It’s crowded because it’s Friday, and Jonny keeps looking down at his hands as they wait. “I can call and try to get us into a place in the city,” he says eventually. “I just have to go to the bank first.”

“No, this is fine,” Patrick lies because he doesn’t want to hurt Jonny’s feelings. He would never be caught here normally, and maybe if this wasn’t Jonny he would demand to be taken somewhere else, but he’s on a date with a _janitor_. He should have known to expect a restaurant chain the moment he agreed to go on this date.

It’s still awkward when they get to their table. The menu is sticky when Patrick opens it, and he has to take a few quick breaths to calm himself. “You wanna split a milkshake?” he asks to try and break the sour mood.

“I’m lactose intolerant,” Jonny says bluntly.

That just kills the mood even further.

“What about some onion rings?” Jonny blurts.

Patrick doesn’t eat onion rings. He’s used to eighty dollar steaks, but Jonny is looking at him earnestly. “Yeah, sure.” Jonny’s smile falters.

Patrick orders a rum and coke to make it through the rest of the date when the waitress comes to take their order while Jonny settles on a water. He’s nervously taping his knee, and despite insisting on the burgers being good, only orders a small salad. It hits Patrick suddenly, when he opens his mouth to order his chicken dinner, that Jonny’s ordered a water and the smallest, cheapest item on the menu because he can’t actually _afford_ this date.

“Order whatever you like,” he insists when Patrick still hasn’t said anything and the waitress is looking a bit annoyed.

“The chicken,” he says quietly. “And never mind about the rum and coke. I’ll get a water too.”

Jonny frowns as the waitress walks away.

They sit awkwardly, no longer having the menus to distract them. Patrick is suddenly very uncomfortable. Without thinking he opens his mouth. “I can pay for my food.”

Jonny looks at him confusedly. “I invited you out.”

“I know, but—”

“I know I don’t have a lot of money,” Jonny interrupts, voice higher than he means it to be, suddenly looking very annoyed. When the people at the next table turn to look at them he swallows, shoulders hunched. “I drive a shitty car and live in a trailer park, but I _can_ afford to buy you a drink and dinner at TGI Friday’s.”

Patrick goes quiet, mouth in a thin line, feeling suddenly very, very guilty.

“Look,” Jonny continues. “I know you’re out of my league. I can’t take you to the newest steakhouse like Greg or on a yacht like Mike, but I think you’re cute and I want to get to know you better.”

“You only think I’m cute?” Patrick says like a _fucking asshole_. Jonny is spilling his heart out and he has to take offense to being labeled ‘cute’.

“The gap tooth is working against you,” says Jonny, but his shoulders aren’t so hunched, and there’s the tiniest smile at the corner of his lips.

Patrick gasps. “Oh, _f_ _uck you_ ,” he says, but he doesn’t actually mean it.

“You’d be cuter if you would just order your rum and coke and stop looking like I took you to a TB ward.”

“Sorry.”

Jonny shrugs, smiling. “I know that this isn’t what you’re used to, but can you just give me a chance, _please_?”

“Yeah, okay,” Patrick agrees, taking a deep breath and not arguing when Jonny flags the waitress down and asks for that rum and coke.

When she’s gone, Patrick slips down in his seat, wrapping his feet around Jonny’s ankle playfully. “I know you can’t take me out on a yacht,” Jonny bristles, “but you’re a lot better looking than Mike.”

Jonny stops bristling to duck his head and blush. “Yeah?”

“A lot nicer too,” Patrick says, thinking back to all the previous dates that he’s been on. No one’s actually ever knocked on his front door, or gotten the car door for him. No one’s ever actually asked him questions about his family and remembered the answers, either.

“Not regretting going on a date with a poor guy now, eh?”

“No,” Patrick answers, feeling guilty about his earlier behavior. “I’m really sorry, Jonny.”

Jonny shrugs. “It’s fine. Just eat your dinner and order as many rum and cokes as you want.”

“Trying to make me easy, Jonny?” Patrick jokes, but Jonny’s face hardens.

“I don’t want to have sex with you.”

A silence falls over the table, only interrupted by the waitress arriving with their food.

“I mean, I want—you’re _hot_ ,” Jonny says when she walks away. “I just—you don’t _have_ to have sex with me.”

Patrick just stares at him, a bit unbelieving.

“I just want to get to know you,” Jonny continues. “I don’t expect you to have sex with me because I bought you dinner.”

Patrick blinks at him. He’s not going to say he was _assaulted_ by any of his previous dates because he sucked their dicks and fucked them sort of, kind of willingly as a thank you for dinner and the yacht rides.

Uh.

Yeah.

There’s probably something wrong with that.

Jonny is frowning at him. “Patrick?”

“Okay,” Patrick says.

“Okay?”

Patrick shrugs, poking at his chicken. “That’s—Jesus, where did you come from? Did you time travel from 1952?”

Jonny is still frowning. “We wouldn’t be sitting here like this if it was 1952.”

Patrick rolls his eyes. “No, I mean. You’re some fucking gentleman, you know that? Coming to the house to get me. Opening doors for me and shit. _Not_ expecting sex on the first date. Who are you, an alien?”

“A decent person,” Jonny answers matter-of-factly.

Patrick sighs dramatically. “What am I going to do with you? I want to suck your dick a little bit and you’ll probably make us wait until our wedding night. Will you at least hug me goodnight or do we have to do an awkward side hug until we’re engaged?”

Jonny is smiling, wide and bright. He looks so lovely when he’s happy. “We can side hug but we can’t hold hands until we’re engaged.”

“Jonathan, I will _die_.”

Jonny continues to smile as he takes a bite of his salad. Patrick can’t help but smile back, taking a bit of his surprisingly really good sizzling chicken. Fuck an eighty dollar steak, this is the best chicken he’s ever had.

It’s easy after that. Jonny has a very dark sense of dry humor that Patrick finds weirdly endearing and hilarious all at the same time. Jonny is easy to talk to too. Nothing he says comes out insincere or like he’s trying to impress Patrick. It’s just so _easy_ and nice that Patrick honestly forgets that he’s sitting in a TGI Friday’s in the suburbs and not at Everest.

By the time their check comes, Patrick is tipsy from the three rum and cokes he’s stopped feeling guilty about. He’s sober enough to keep his wallet in his pocket and not insult Jonny, but by the time they make it to the car the world is flashing, just a bit. He usually doesn’t get drunk on dates because he’s a classy guy, but he feels like he can trust Jonny _not_ to take advantage of him.

“You gonna take me home, Jonny?”

“I’m not leaving you here,” Jonny says as he buckles Patrick in. Patrick didn’t even realize that they got in the car.

“No, I mean—are you going to fuck me?”

“While you’re like this?” Jonny says, scrunching his face in disgust. “We’re not engaged yet, Patrick. No touching under the waist until we’re engaged.”

“You’re the _worst_.”

Jonny only reverses the car in reply.

When they get back to Patrick’s house, he’s sobered up enough to unlock his door. Jonny comes in uninvited, but Patrick doesn’t care. “ _Oh_ ,” he purrs.

Jonny rolls his eyes. “I just want to make sure that you don’t crack your head on the toilet seat when you throw your chicken back up.”

“I’m not _that_ drunk,” Patrick says as he fumbles his way into his bedroom. He toes off his shoes and shimmies out of his too tight jeans while Jonny just goes behind him and picks up his clothes, folding the jeans neatly before he puts them on a chair. “Are you going to stay?”

Jonny shrugs. “I don’t—”

“We can cuddle,” Patrick insists. “I like to be cuddled.”

“Why am I not surprised,” Jonny says, but he kicks off his shoes and takes off his jeans and _Jesus fucking Christ_ he has the tightest pair of boxer briefs on Patrick’s ever seen.

“You’ve got a big dick,” Patrick blurts.

“Maybe,” Jonny says as he climbs into bed, but he can’t keep the cocky look off his face.

“ _Maybe_?” Patrick repeats, doing the same. There’s an awkward moment between them where Patrick really debates just shoving his face into Jonny’s crotch because he truly does deserve a little dick action, but Jonny is quick to grab Patrick about the waist and make him the little spoon.

“I’m putting that in my ass in the morning,” Patrick says matter-of-factly.

Patrick can _feel_ Jonny’s eye roll.

 

 

When Patrick wakes the next morning, he’s a bit groggy but not hungover, and there’s a giant dick poking him in the ass. He’s momentarily confused and alarmed, but then he rolls over a bit and sees Jonny’s, sweet, endearing sleeping face and calms down.

Patrick crawls out of bed, slipping into the bathroom to brush his teeth and piss, and when he comes back out Jonny is still asleep. It’s Saturday and Patrick has nowhere to be, so he leaves Jonny to sleep, slipping into the kitchen to make pancakes—the only thing he can make and not burn.

He’s just dishing the last pancake onto a plate when Jonny roams into the kitchen, shirtless and still in his too tight boxer briefs, morning wood unfortunately gone. It’s immediately noticeable that Jonny is not a Morning Person™. “Toothbrush?” he grunts.

“Under the sink in my bathroom.”

Jonny just grunts, wandering back in the direction that he came. Patrick starts a pot of coffee.

When Jonny remerges, looking more awake, Patrick is three pancakes and two cup of coffees into his breakfast. “You can cook?”

“I can make pancakes and coffee,” Patrick says proudly.

Jonny takes a seat at the table, helping himself to the pancakes and some of Patrick’s coffee. They sit peacefully, Patrick scrolling through the morning news on his iPad as Jonny eats and helps himself to more coffee. When the pancakes are gone, Jonny actually gets up and _washes the dishes_.

“This is going to sound very presumptuous of me,” Patrick says, not even trying to hide his hard on for Jonny doing his dirty dishes. “But please don’t ever leave me.”

Jonny only smiles, scrubbing away.

Jonny doesn’t seem in any hurry to leave, and Patrick’s not in any hurry to make him leave. Jonny’s got a fat ass, a big dick, and he washes up after himself. He’s the perfect husband material.

“Can I take a shower?” Jonny asks when he’s done with the dishes.

“Yeah, of course,” Patrick says. “Towels are in the linen closet in the hall.”

Jonny nods. “You’ve got a big shower,” he says conversationally. “Big enough for two people.”

“Yeah?” Patrick says, dropping his iPad quickly, not caring that he sounds like a desperate, greedy bottom bitch. He feels it deep down in the very pits of his soul that Jonny can eat his ass like a cupcake and fuck him well into next month. He watches Jonny retreat from the kitchen, sending a silent thank you to the heavens.

They don’t even make it to the shower. When Patrick walks into his bedroom, Jonny slams him up against the wall, working his way between his thighs, claiming Patrick’s mouth in a desperate kiss. Patrick goes a bit dizzy, lifting one leg up to wrap it around Jonny’s waist, whining desperately into his mouth when their cocks rub together.

“I’ve wanted to fuck you for months,” Jonny admits when they break apart, biting down Patrick’s neck, sucking a hickey into his collarbone. “But you kept going out on dates with fucking Greg.”

“Well I didn’t _know_ ,” moans Patrick, slamming his head against the wall painfully as Jonny drags his lips down his chest, biting his nipples before he kisses down his stomach, mouthing at his cock through his briefs. “ _F_ _uck_.”

Jonny doesn’t waste any time. He drags Patrick’s briefs down, freeing his cock and balls. “Jonny,” Patrick gasps, the noise going high-pitched when Jonny sucks his ball sac into his mouth.

Patrick’s fingers go straight to Jonny’s hair, tugging meanly. He wants Jonny’s mouth on his cock and his tongue up his ass, but he can’t have both, which is fucking _annoying_.

“Please,” he begs. “Jonny, fuck.”

“Put your leg on my shoulder,” Jonny instructs, doing the action for Patrick when he’s not fast enough. Patrick only has a moment to steady himself before Jonny’s tongue is nudging at his hole, tongue filthy wet as he swipes it back and forth quickly.

“Fuck, _fuck_ ,” Patrick says, spitting into his hand and jacking at is cock, using his other hand to lift his sac. Jonny groans under him, sounding like a man who hasn’t eaten in days. He pulls back, spreading Patrick wider with his thumbs before he dives back in.

When his tongue breaches Patrick’s rim, Patrick nearly shouts, squeezing his dick to keep from shooting everywhere.

Patrick could stay here like this for hours, but he’s weak and his leg is wobbly, even with Jonny there to support him. Also Jonny’s got a big dick he wants up his ass _now_. “Jonny,” he says, “ _Jonny_ , fuck. Come on, the bed.”

Jonny ignores him to push his tongue in and out, causing Patrick’s eyes to roll back a little.

“ _Jonny_ ,” he tries again. “Please, _please_. I need you to _fuck me_.”

Jonny pulls away. His chin is wet with spit. “I like it down here.”

Patrick moans, legs shaking. “Later,” he says, voice raspy. “Later you can eat your come out of my ass for all I care.”

Jonny frowns. “That’s unsafe, Patrick.”

“ _Oh my god_ ,” is all Patrick can say.

Jonny gets off his knees. “We need to get tested first.”

Patrick feels his hard on starting to wane.

Jonny turns him around, backing him up to the bed. Patrick falls backwards onto the bed, legs spreading open. Jonny is quick to slot between them, still in his underwear, but he lifts Patrick’s legs, dry humping against him in a show of what he’s going to hopefully be doing in a few minutes.

“Once we get tested,” he says, which might be the least sexy sentence Patrick’s ever heard in the bedroom, “I’m going to come so hard in your tight little ass that you’re going to be leaking for days. You’re going to beg me to bend you over your desk and eat you out.”

“ _Fucking Christ_ ,” Patrick moans, eyes rolling back in his head. “Jesus fucking Christ. Get your dick in me now.”

Jonny chuckles, the cocky asshole. “Where’s the lube and condoms?”

“Drawers,” Patrick barks. “Top drawer.”

Jonny retrieves the items quickly. He covers his fingers in lube quickly, circling one around Patrick’s hole teasingly before he pushes it in, straight to the last knuckle. “How much prep do you like?”

“Two,” Patrick breathes, clenching around Jonny’s fingers, already feeling the need to come in the bottom of his spine. Jonny’s got thick fucking fingers, but he wants to really feel it when he finally pushes in.

Jonny adds the second finger quickly, the stretch causing Patrick to lift his hips off the bed and to shout when he crooks them, finding his prostate immediately. Jonny plays with him, fucking him with his fingers, purposefully missing his prostate on every other stroke before he decides to just go to town.

“Fuck, fuck _fuck_ ,” Patrick babbles. “If you don’t stop—”

Jonny withdraws his fingers. He strips out of his underwear, finally revealing that gorgeous fucking cock that Patrick knew he was hiding. It’s thick and long and _cut_ , head red and leaking pre-come. Patrick wants to get it in his mouth, but he wants it in his ass even more.

“ _Please_ ,” he begs.

Jonny rolls the condom on, covering his hand with lube before he jacks at his dick for a moment, staring down at Patrick. “Fuck,” he groans before he finally steps forward, lining his dick up with Patrick’s rim. He leans forward, capturing Patrick’s mouth in a mind-numbing kiss as he pushes in.

Patrick breathes in and out steadily, willing his body to adjust to Jonny’s girth. Jonny keeps kissing him, pushing inch by inch until there’s nowhere for him to go, pelvis right up against his ass. Patrick feels so fucking _full_ , and he loves every inch of Jonny’s cock inside of him.

“I said _fuck me_ ,” he says when he can’t take anymore of Jonny just standing there.

Jonny grins down at him, cocky as fuck. He pulls out slowly before he rocks back in, hips rolling steadily back and forth, cock just _barely_ missing Patrick’s prostate, but it feels good, oh so fucking good, like Patrick’s being split in two.

“Oh _god_ ,” he says when Jonny slides him back a little, one knee up on the bed, arms braced on either side of Patrick. He’s staring down at Patrick as he fucks him, eyes heavy, sweat beading down his head, and Patrick has to brace a hand on Jonny’s elbow and the other on his thigh because Jonny’s looking at him so _fondly_.

Jonny shifts his hips, cock head dragging _just right_ on Patrick’s prostate, and Patrick can do nothing but lie there, mouth open wide, staring up at Jonny, knowing he looks fucking dumb, but Jonny’s fucking him so good that he doesn’t care.

Jonny’s not even fucking him _hard_ , he’s just splitting him in two and hitting his prostate with every stroke, and Patrick literally can’t concentrate on breathing because every sensor in his body is in overdrive.

Patrick moans, feeling like he wants to sob, toes curling, fingers digging bruises into Jonny’s skin, but he doesn’t care, he doesn’t care, all he wants to do is come.

“Jonny,” he cries, not even caring anymore. “Jonny, _please please please I need to come **Jonny**_.”

Jonny grins down at him, devilish, and then he fucks in hard, slamming into Patrick, hitting his spot over and over and over again, and all Patrick can do is sob and come, whole body going taut, head thrown back, come shooting all over his belly and even on his chin.

Jonny stops moving, dick shoved up into Patrick, shaking with the strain of it. “Sweetheart,” he begs, sounding so dumbly fond. “Can I?”

“Yeah,” Patrick agrees, even though every thrust makes his body sing, his rim feeling raw, but it doesn’t take long for Jonny to come with a shout, burying his face in Patrick’s neck.

They lay like that for a few minutes, Patrick stroking down Jonny’s back until Jonny lifts up, slowly pulling out.

It leaves Patrick feeling wide and open, _raw_. He wants Jonny back in bed with him immediately, which should worry him, really, but it doesn’t. He sighs contently when Jonny returns from throwing the condom away, crawling into bed with him.

They don’t cuddle, just lie side by side, which is still nice.

“So,” Jonny finally says. “I definitely get a second date, yeah?”

Jonny’s shitty Mazda is parked outside of Patrick’s house. He took him to TGI Friday’s for fuck’s sake, but Jonny is a gentleman, a sweet guy who washes his dishes, and he eats ass on the first date and fucked Patrick into Tuesday. “I _guess_.”

Jonny snorts, rolling over onto his side, dragging Patrick into a cuddle. He kisses the back of Patrick’s neck softly.

Patrick could get used to this.


End file.
